The Art of Living
by RaiCL
Summary: Hermione has been off the radar since the end of the Wizard War. Nobody knew where she went or why just her steady stream of letters kept everyone secure in the thoughts that she was ok. But someone knows just how not ok she actually is, but he's too busy living a lie to care. Dramione
1. Chapter 1

"Draco!"  
"Draaaacooo, wake up!"  
Said male groaned and rolled over pulling his pillow over his ears. It was way too early for him to have to deal with his fiancé's insistent harping.  
He felt her hands trying to pull his pillow away from him and he just held it tighter until the force left all of her motions.  
"Draco, why are you ignoring me? You shouldn't do this to your betrothed, its mean. Especially on your wedding day" Pansy Parkinson whined.  
He could just picture her face from under his pillow safe haven, scrunched up and frowning. Unattractive to say the least, but her personality grated in an even worse way.  
He continued to ignore her until she gave up totally and wandered away. Once gone, he sat up and breathed a sigh of relief. He thought she would never leave.

He thought back to how he had gotten stuck in this position… and it still seemed as hopeless as it did when he first got into this mess.

"_Draco, you must do something for our family, to regain our standing among the elite. Malfoys simply don't belong among the simpleminded rabble that we have been reduced to the ranks of!"  
"Yes, well, what do you suppose I do mother? If you haven't noticed, the name 'Malfoy' is regarded with the same hatred and disgust as 'He-who-must-not-be-named'." He had intoned back to his mother, who had not quite recovered from losing her husband to Azkaban when the war had ended. Something in her had broken losing her husband and then almost in the same breath her son.  
"Well I was conversing with Mrs. Parkinson if you will, and she happened to mention the lack of ah… suitable pureblood male pickings for her Pansy. You went to school with her correct? You should know her quite well then in that case…" His mother's carefully up kept eyebrow raised itself as if daring him to disagree.  
"What are you getting at mother?" he asked her, slowly. He really hoped it wasn't what he thought it would be.  
"I arranged for you to become engaged to Pansy. A close connection like marriage would so improve our social standing, don't you think? Now Mrs. Parkinson and I realize that you two are quite young and that you have never properly courted despite several years of opportunity, so we set the date for the bonding ceremony for in 3 years during the winter solstice." Narcissa slowly explained her plan to ruin his life._

They had fought for days, and he eventually gave in when she threatened to slit her wrist. Narcissa couldn't help being bred to be the manipulative bitch that she was, even to her own son, he reasoned, it was just part of her being. Draco couldn't let his mother hurt herself after all, so he final agreed. The harpy that was Pansy Parkinson had since been attached at his hip.  
He hated it.  
He had hated HER.  
Three years later and that feeling had only intensified to gigantic proportions.

He groaned and got up to get ready for the worst day of his entire life.


	2. Chapter 2

The day went on forever.  
The way Draco figured it though, anything to postpone the inevitable, even at the cost of prolonging his torture.

The day droned on. Tea with the bride's family the day of the wedding, being a pureblood tradition, was as mandatory as it was uncomfortable. Loric Parkinson was a large man with an even larger voice. His personality was bawdy and not suitable to the high class he belonged to. His wife, Persephone was a small pinched woman with a stern face. She, like every other pureblood woman, was bred to present a cool, graceful demeanor to even her family and to gossip shamelessly with other women in her social class. So as one could guess, between Loric's lewd attempts at humor and the woman's attempt to socialize, that the whole ordeal bored and annoyed him to death.

'I cannot believe that shortly I will be related to these dimwits.' He thought and made a face. Pansy took the opportunity to try to drag him off, saying "You have a stomachache we must get you a potion immediately! Come Draco." She started to grab his hand to drag him up. He immediately yanked his hand away and hissed at her "How dare you assume you know me? And then proceed to treat me as if I can't take care of myself!"  
He left her there, with her hand outstretched as he stalked out of the room. He went to his chambers and paced back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth.  
Why was he marrying her again? For social status he had no need for? His mother was the only reason he was taking this track. It was far too late to call the whole thing off, his mother would surely kill him herself for ruining her chance to re-enter polite society, but Draco couldn't help but hope he could still get out of the whole ordeal.

Later his personal house elf Palin came in with a pop and helped him dress in his robes for the midnight ceremony. Only about 3 hours of life left before he would begin a slow painful death. He sighed in resignation and left his room.

* * *

Hermione Jean Granger hadn't been seen once since the war officially ended. If not for the steady stream of letters that Harry was receiving from her, he would think she was kidnapped.  
The night Voldemort died was a changing point for the wizard world, and the golden trio was not an exception. Ron and Hermione had only lasted a few short days romantically before something -and Harry had no idea what- happened. Ron was angry and talked condescendingly about her at every opportunity. Hermione grew silent and looked as if she might cry at any given chance. And then, two weeks after the final battle, Hermione was gone.  
She left a note for only Harry, stating that it all was too much. Too many negative things had happened and if she stayed she would go insane. It begged him not to look for her and not to let anyone else search for her in return for letters regularly.  
He saw no harm in doing as she asked thinking that she would be back to them soon. That this get away was just a way for her to cope and that when she felt better she would be back.  
He was wrong about he being right back. Letters coming postmarked from Paris claimed that she had met someone and was going to stay there longer, but that she would be home in a few months. Then came letters posted from Austria claiming that she had always wanted to tour the country. Then Switzerland ("The chocolate is to die for, Harry!"), then it was off to Australia where her parents had decided to live after having their memories retrieved. Two years passed this way in the blink of an eye. He received a letter from her every Monday for that whole time, but she never returned. In the last year she claimed she was offered a position in Italy that would challenge and relax her at the same time, and that she was taking it.  
She claimed that she was happy in each of her letters, but Harry could sense an underlying despair in each until she had moved to Italy, at that point he could sense that she was genuinely cheerful and exited.

In any case, Harry thought, in two months it would be the anniversary of Dumbledore's death, and he was determined to have his best friend with him for it this time, even if he had to drag her back to England.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco was anxious.  
Strike that he was nauseous.  
He felt sick to the fact that in less than an hour he would be married to that retched creature. If only his damned mother wouldn't have her heart so set on regaining her precious social standing. After all, it's not as if she wouldn't make new friends if she tried. Narcissa Mariette Clia Malfoy flatly refused to put in an effort and then blamed it on every person not being worthy of her.  
_To be honest though_, he thought, _if you had talked to me several years before I would have had the same words flowing from my mouth._

Ten minutes to go until his entrance. His mind meanwhile, wandered.  
It would be an awkward marriage for sure. He would do his best to stay away from her after she had sired his heir, and there was no way she was going to be allowed to influence the child at all, seeing that he would keep it and himself as far away from her as humanly possible.  
_'Australia sounds nice; I could invest in some property there under a fake name. She would never be able to find him to prattle on about whatever she felt the need to…' _ He felt his hopes rise at that comforting idea.

His elf popped into the room. "Young Master, It's time for yous to enter the ballrooms, yes?" It told him. He glanced at the elderly elf. Its quivering frame was wrapped in a clean white pillow case that drug on the floor being so huge. Palin had served him for many years and never failed to follow orders to the tee. He felt a surge of pity for the creature; soon it would have to serve Pansy also. He cringed at that thought, but then got a devious thought.  
"Palin, I order you to do the opposite of whatever Miss Pansy or her family orders you to do, until the time comes when she tries to tell you what not to do so you will do what she wants, then switch it up on her. Just always to the exact opposite of what she wants done. Got it?" He smirked at his own troublemaking. In his own way, it was his getting back at her for being horrible.  
"Yes of course, Young Master Draco! Anything yous wishes. Wills I relay this order to the rest of us elves?" its voice sounded delighted, the poor old thing hated Pansy as much as he did.  
"Do as you see fit Palin." The elf practically had a seizure at being put in charge of a decision, and satisfied Draco left his room and wandered down the hallways to where he was supposed to enter.

The door slid open as he approached and he took his place at the altar. The music was playing and the nauseous feeling from earlier returned sevenfold. The wedding march began and the doors once more slid open, this time revealing his soon to be wife.  
Draco knew something was wrong with this picture. He should at that moment be at least apathetic towards the whole thing, but dammit!  
An ice cold spear drove its way through his chest, telling him that he needed to leave right that moment. As Pansy got closer and he began to see her face through her veil, he became disgusted. Her makeup was so thick, her face seemed pudgier. It was like a monstrous piece of art that went horribly wrong.  
The spear just kept on digging and killing him as she approached, begging him to leave.  
And with a 'pop' that's just what he did.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco was ecstatic.

He had just done the one thing that he shouldn't have. So why did it feel so damn good?  
Oh his mother would kill him for sure but he wouldn't be married to that… thing. He almost felt a bit of remorse, even Pansy didn't deserve being left at the altar, during the ceremony to boot, but he just couldn't work up the guilt. He was free!

He no longer had any need to run away to Australia… no longer any heir to produce with Pansy. No longer would he be at his mother's beck and call god dammit!  
His rebellious thoughts calmed for a few moments to feel remorse for ruining his mother's aspirations, after all she would hardly be able to reenter polite high society with her son having ditched a perfectly suitable pureblooded girl at the altar.  
He hoped that his mother would soon realize that he just couldn't marry Pansy… he would have died a slow miserable death, with no way out. It was a lot to hope, being his mother was a very selfish person, but one couldn't abandon all hope, could one? He was a half glass full kind of person Draco liked to think.

He had apparated straight out of the reception with hardly a place in mind, just the need to get AWAY. And so here he was, in the Italian equivalent to Diagon Alley and feeling like the luckiest chap in the world. He was frankly amazed by the fact that he didn't splinch himself on the way… cross-country apparition was hard enough without emotional variables. He remembered his apparition instructor's weedy voice "Remember the three D's!"  
He laughed at the memory of Wilkie Twycross' voice calling out "Determination!", "Destination!" and "Deliberation!" Well he must have had enough determination to take care of the other two prerequisites. At least they all had D's in them. It's close enough, he supposed.

He took in his surroundings… he saw the many shops, taverns and restaurants littering the wizarding social center. He saw many people strolling down the streets, regardless of it being midnight. Italian wizards had a taste for the natural, for the pleasing to the eye, and you could tell looking at the buildings surrounding him. Shades of browns, greens, rustic reds, and creams came together with ornate metalwork and delicious smells to create a vision of paradise to his psych.

He wandered a ways down the street and came to realize that many people were walking with him- away from the exit. 'What could be causing everyone to be out so late on the town?' he thought. As he continued to walk down the street, he saw the destination that it seemed that everyone was heading to.  
The building was stone, with vines growing over every square inch of it. Flowers bloomed by the second, wilting soon after, only to be replaced by its brothers. The effect was a stunning reflection of life, pulsing and beautiful. The only entrance was a single door, there were no windows. There was one sign claiming the building as "Il Palazzo Notte"  
People entered, and seeing as he had nowhere to be… he followed.

The inside was not dissimilar to the outside of the building. Vines of all kinds curled around the walls and tables, flowers all over blooming and releasing their sweet fragrance before furling back into a bud and disappearing. The similarities ended there he saw, with a very dark green marble floor that had threads of gold running through, and with tables and chairs located sparsely around the room. It would have been stunning if only the light wasn't so bright.

"Hello sir, I can see you are new to this establishment! How may I help you?" a voice called out to his right. Draco turned to see a short male usher. Draco floundered for a response to the unexpected question.  
"How did you ah… know I have never been here before?" he finally asked the small man, unsure.  
"Well sir, you aren't wearing our insignia necklace. We use them to contact our patrons and so that they may signal us whenever they have need of anything within our fine establishment without disturbing the shows."  
"Shows?" Draco questioned.  
"Ahmm, maybe I should give you the introductory speech, then you will understand." The man offered. "Il Palazzo Notte was founded only about a year and half ago, by two wizards who had a desire to own a classy, ambient, yet exiting bar. They desired the place to be open to all whom appear to be of the right sort to join, with joining entailing wearing a necklace with the insignia of this place on it to enter. (The "right sort" having nothing to do with blood status, naturally, more the fact that they wanted peopled to have manners and good style when they came.) The necklace gives advertising, keeps tabs on your bill; it keeps us notified when you enter so that we may better serve you, and it summons a waiter whenever needed wordlessly so as to not hinder the performances we have on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Come to think of it, the first act is about to begin. If you are to stay, please let me seat you sir."  
The short wizard's speech ended abruptly, as Draco noticed the garish lighting slowly slide down, darker and darker. He nodded and was seated near the very front of the room just as the lights fell to blackness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note:** I would like to take a second to say "sorry!" I have been busy around the house as of late, between my language self studies (German, Spanish and Japanese) And two almost dead kittens I found and have been nursing to back health, (Snickerdoodle "snicks" and Tabby cat "tabs") I have had no time whatsoever to breath, let alone crank out a chapter! I appreciate the patient wait. :)  
I would also like to thank everyone who has added this story as a favourite or is now following it, and to all of you wonderful people who have left reviews for me :) If anyone has any suggestions for the story, or any criticism, i would be glad to receive your words! ^^

Once again, I apologize for the wait!

* * *

Hermione hated people.  
She just did.  
After the fall of Voldemort, there was just no _end_ to them. They came in droves, harassing her, begging her for interviews and autographs, thanking her (while that part wasn't so bad, the sheer repetitiveness and the tears wore her already thin patience even more so). The steady stream of people never seemed to slow, and always came to crowds galore on her worst days.

"_How can they just move on? Move on when such extremely good people are dead?"_ She had thought of darling Teddy Lupin, never to know his mother or his father. Did anybody besides her feel the strangling sense of failure whenever she remembered all of those innocents who had died? She thought of Fred… he was never supposed to have left. She couldn't look at George without imagining Fred about to come around a bend in the hallway, laughing at her for falling for one of their jokes.  
The final push came later, a few weeks after the end, in the form of Ronald Weasley. He had been looking down at her at any opportunity, berating her for things out of her control, as if she was somehow at fault for the deaths that had occurred. Then he had the audacity to, out of the same mouth that condemned her, spew forth declarations of love. That led to darker, more terrible happenings that Hermione was loath to even think about.

That was the final straw, she had decided. She left England at that point in time and took measures to never be found by anyone she didn't wish to contact. She cut her hair short, not unlike a boy and dyed it a dark auburn. She charmed her eyes to a bright green colour and threw out most of her clothes. She had lost a lot of weight hunting horcruxes and never regained any of it, leaving her swimming in most of her clothing any way.  
If she never wanted to be found again, she would need more help than just a colour job and a haircut, she knew, and strove to buy clothing that was different from her usual attire. She was almost reminded of Tonks, as she redid herself, but firmly stopped that trail of thoughts as she continued on her self-assigned mission.  
Finally she left a note for Harry telling him that she needed to go, and that she would keep in contact with him, but there was just too many things going on. Then she left before she received a reply to her owl.

* * *

She went to Paris first, knowing the area a bit from former vacations with her parents. Seeing the city she had once explored with them hurt terribly, as she had no way of finding them, and she ended up sitting dejectedly in a coffee shop.  
_"What am I doing here? I should be helping salvage the wizarding world…" _ She had thought to herself.

"Hello there, what's a gorgeous piece of female like you doing all alone and frowning?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. She had looked up quickly to see a man sitting down at her small table, a coffee in hand. He had shaggy, slightly long, brunette hair, a tan, and eyes that looked as if laughter was on their way. "I noticed you were sitting alone, and thought I would sit with you. You don't look like you are from around here." He breathed a short but humor filled laugh.

"I wouldn't know about gorgeous, but I have had a long day is all," she smiled tightly "… I guess I don't fit in very well here. I am British at heart I suppose." He laughed once again, and Hermione wondered at what.

"Well I am thankful that you don't, otherwise I shan't ever have come to meet such a fine specimen. I will get to brag to my roommates about how I met my dream girl today, and they will be jealous of me for getting to you first!" Laughter again, He had seemed to be a pretty jovial person "So what is my soul mates name, if I may ask?"  
Hermione froze with her name at the top of her tongue, ready to be thrown out in the name of flirting, but something gave her pause. She thought of how she hated people in her business, she thought of how she couldn't stand being found yet, and she thought of her family, biological and not, and then made a choice. "My name is Evelyn. Yours?" she inquired, flushing a bit at her lie.

"Jun Garrett." He smiled at her, eyes twinkling. "My Mothers adopted parents were Japanese so I got a pretty epic name, What's your family name Evelyn?"

She considered him a moment, and for some reason his smiling face reminded her of a certain sweet faced baby boy who had been left without a family. She remembered arguments that were had about what the name would be of their child regarding what gender and, tweaked it to suit her needs.

"Lupin… Evelyn Nymphadora Lupin,"


End file.
